


Dean's Journal - Interlude 2

by Jinx (jinx37kat)



Series: Dean's Journal [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-11
Updated: 2006-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9282407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinx37kat/pseuds/Jinx
Summary: Spoiler:  Home – Coda-ish





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I wrote this as part of Dean’s Journal, but realized that since Sam is reading the journal and Dean wouldn’t quote his entire experience that I really couldn’t use it as part of the journal per se; so I’ve decided to turn it into an interlude cuz I really, really wanted to write this. So, here ya go! 
> 
> Warning - A/N2: Okay, too… it’s no secret that I do NOT like Mary. Just as some people have it in for John, I’m that way with mommy-dearest. That little brushing-by-Dean scene just got my knickers in a twist, so, of course, I’ll be projecting my anger onto Dean. If you are a Mary-apologista, you may not wanna read this. You have been warned.

Dean stood by the car and thanked Jenny for the box of mementos she had found in the basement. The box contained photos, a card that a four year old Dean had made for his dad for Father’s Day the summer before his mom died, a card he had made for his mom for Mother’s Day that same year, and a few other smaller boxes that he had yet to open, figuring they were things his mother kept as family memories. 

He leafed through a stack of pictures and froze when he came to one of him and Sammy taken just a few short weeks before their mom had died. Jenny continued talking, but Dean was no longer paying attention as the memory of that day began to flood his consciousness: 

Mary had made sure that Dean was seated before placing Sammy in his arms. He’d held Sam several times in the last few months, but was never allowed to carry him around. His mom and dad didn’t want him to drop the baby and, truth be told, Dean was afraid he might. He felt more comfortable sitting with his baby brother in his lap anyway, which he was allowed to do quite often. 

Mary had run to the other room and grabbed her camera. When she returned, she stopped and stared, watching her little boy carefully cradle his baby brother and telling him how he was going to teach him to play T-ball like their father taught him. 

She brought the camera to her eye and called out Dean’s name. The minute he looked up, she snapped the photo, wanting a natural reaction from her son. 

Dean remembered when she brought the film home after it was developed. She sat with him and showed him all the pictures from the roll, but stopped at the photo of him and Sam. When she spoke, it was to Sam, whom she had cradled in the crook of her arm. 

“See this, Sammy? You’re big brother loves you very much and will always protect you.” 

Dean nodded his head enthusiastically in agreement, blond hair flying in all directions. “Yep!” He had looked up at Mary, but she was staring lovingly down at Sam. 

He never realized it at the time, but that was just one of several times that Dean could remember his mom talking about him in the third person, as if he weren’t in the room, even when he sat right next to her. 

He shook his head to erase the memory and allowed his hearing to focus in on the conversation between Missouri and Sam. While the voices were kind of far away, he was still able to catch most of Missouri’s words – though she wasn’t hard to miss, having yelled at him practically from the moment they met. He had to bite back a snort when he heard her tell Sam, “To protect her boys. Of course.” 

He figured that Sam had asked why their mom had done what she did; or something to that effect. It took all of his will-power to not look up and shout at them that Mary didn’t sacrifice herself for her boys, she sacrificed herself for her boy… Sam… again. 

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he tuned out whatever else they were saying – afraid that Missouri might read his thoughts as she was wont to do, at least with him… and verbally kick his ass for what he was thinking. 

He smiled at Jenny as he thanked her for the photos before tossing them into the box. He looked up as Jenny moved away and Sam made his way to the car. He was about to crawl into the driver’s seat when Missouri told them not to be strangers and to visit soon. 

Ha! Fat fucking chance!! Of course he didn’t say that and was surprised when Missouri didn’t call him on it, for which he was eternally thankful. There was no way in hell that he would be coming back… EVER! 

The car ride back to their motel room was as silent as it had ever been. Dean was antsy to get back, pack up and get the hell out of town. But there was one place that Dean wanted to stop before they left and he wanted to go alone – had to go alone. Thankfully, Sam was still so out of it that Dean had managed to drop his brother off with a quick, “I’ll be right back,” without Sam asking any questions. Though as fast as Dean left the motel parking lot, he really didn’t give his brother a chance to protest anyway. 

Dean drove to a corner florist and picked up one calla lily for reasons even he didn’t understand. Maybe as a final good-bye? He didn’t know. It just seemed like the right thing to do. 

He slowly made his way to the cemetery Mary was buried in. The cemetery that he hadn’t been to for over twenty years. 

After wandering around the pristine grounds for nearly twenty minutes, Dean finally managed to find what he was looking for. 

He stopped and stared down at the marker: 

Mary Winchester   
Beloved Wife and Mother 

Dean was silent for long moments, not really sure where to start. 

Finally, Dean stopped fidgeting and took a deep breath. 

“Hey Mom, long time, huh?” Dean began as he stared down at the headstone. His chuckle was like broken glass as he shook his head. “Wait. No, I guess that’s not quite true now, is it? Just saw you, what, an hour ago? Though I’m sure you don’t remember. Did you even see me? Probably not.” 

Dean looked up and stared across the cemetery seeing nothing but what happened in the kitchen of their old house barely an hour before. 

He blinked away his blurry vision before looking back down and sighing, nodding his head. “Ya know what? I just wanted to tell you that I think I’m done, Mom. I mean, I’ve spent my entire life trying to find the thing that killed you. Not that Dad gave me a choice or anything, but, that’s not the point. I’ve spent my whole life with Dad and Sammy hunting down the bad guys and for what? For someone who doesn’t even give a shit about her oldest son enough to even acknowledge him when she sees him for the first time in twenty two year!” Dean realized that he was practically yelling and inhaled a shaky breath to calm down. “I guess I should be grateful for even that small amount of recognition, though, huh?” 

Dean stalked away a few steps and looked out over the manicured grounds, clutching the stem of the lily in a death grip. “Did you even love me when you were alive?” 

Tears clouded Dean’s vision again, but, for once, he didn’t notice. He slowly turned back around and looked down; two large salty drops fell unheeded to the earth below and were quickly swallowed up by the grass. “I suppose that back there was my answer, though.” 

He snorted silently while a self-deprecating smile tugged at a corner of his mouth. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m done, Mom. I mean, I’ll still try to find Dad and everything, but once I do, I’m dropping Sammy off and leaving. There’s nothing left for me outta this. Dad needs to find your killer and Sam needs to find Jessica’s. They have their quest for revenge. Me? I guess I was doing it for the love I had for a mother who apparently doesn’t give a shit about me. I’m done. No more. It’s not like it’ll matter whether I’m helping or not, though, would it?” 

Of course he didn’t expect an answer. Hell, he wouldn’t have expected an answer if she were standing right next to him. 

Inhaling another shaky breath, Dean tossed the lily on the grave and wiped the juice from the stem on his pant leg. Before he turned to leave, he looked down. “Goodbye, Mom.” 

He didn’t feel the hand as it reached out to stop him from leaving. He probably wouldn’t have stopped even if he had. 

 

Finis


End file.
